


mirror, mirror

by The_Eclectic_Bookworm



Series: the mirrorverse [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e17 Passion, F/M, Gen, Minor Violence, as is expected of a season 2 buffy and jenny fic tbh, the calendiles is BARELY there and VERY background but it's a huge theme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27217888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eclectic_Bookworm/pseuds/The_Eclectic_Bookworm
Summary: "Buffy,” said Ms. Calendar, “pay attention. This is gonna be on the SATs. If you’re the love of Giles’s life, and I’m just cannon fodder in an endless war, then who’s driving the bus?”“You’ve got it wrong,” said Buffy. “What textbook are you looking at?”
Relationships: Jenny Calendar & Buffy Summers, Jenny Calendar/Rupert Giles, Rupert Giles & Buffy Summers
Series: the mirrorverse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2200062
Comments: 17
Kudos: 45





	mirror, mirror

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JackalopingIntoTheVoid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackalopingIntoTheVoid/gifts).



> hello and welcome to yet another series rewrite! i really can't call this the revamped braveryverse anymore because the two have literally nothing in common at this point, so it's just another series rewrite. yes i will finish the last installment of the braveryverse. no i do not know when that will happen. (it WILL, though.)
> 
> this is for my mom bc she was the one who was like "well, you've written a lot of passion fix-its, but have you written one where buffy saves jenny?" and then i got this insane idea and ran with it. love u mom.
> 
> anyway: buffy and jenny are extremely similar and i think that says a lot of interesting things.

Strange as it was, the first emotion that hit Buffy was _jealousy._ Angel and Ms. Calendar, so closely entwined, lit by moonlight – they looked like the cover of one of those romance novels her mom still refused to let her read. _The Vampire and the Technopagan._ Wouldn’t it make more sense for Angel to be with Ms. Calendar, anyway? They were close in age, and as it turned out, Ms. Calendar’s ties to _Buffy’s_ boyfriend ran deeper than she’d ever been willing to admit.

Angel hadn’t seen her yet. Buffy didn’t know if he would. His attention was only on Ms. Calendar, his eyes alight with a passionate hunger that seemed more appropriate in the thick of combat than holding some small, breakable computer science teacher in his arms. He was looking at her like holding her was some kind of incredible victory on his part, and that look in his eyes made the jealousy in Buffy’s chest rise up and choke her. What was so fucking _special_ about Ms. Calendar, anyway?

Angel’s thumb lightly stroked Ms. Calendar’s bottom lip. Panic and loathing flashed across Ms. Calendar’s face.

It was supposed to be easy. In her dream, it had been easy. Ms. Calendar trapped on the stairs, Angel snapping her neck with an artful twist of his hands – they were less than seconds away from the moment Buffy _knew_ was coming, the moment her Slayer-senses had _warned_ her about, but Buffy couldn’t bring herself to make a sound. Some part of her was still hoping that Angel would pull away from this atrocity, this thing that he could never truly come back from—

“Sorry, Jenny,” whispered Angel. “This is where you—”

Unbidden, Buffy drew in a sobbing breath.

Though Angel’s grip on Ms. Calendar didn’t falter, it did loosen very slightly as his eyes flicked with some interest to Buffy. A malicious smile spread across his face. “Would you look at that?” he said. “We have an audience. Think she’s gonna step in and save you, Jenny?”

Buffy’s heart was pounding in her chest. Why couldn’t she _move?_

“See, _I’m_ starting to think she _won’t,”_ Angel continued casually, his smile widening as he continued to survey Buffy. “She’s clearly been here long enough to make _some_ kind of a move, and she knows that if she _wanted_ to, she could move fast enough to get you out of harm’s way. But she’s _not_ moving, Jenny, so what do you think that means?”

And it was the look on Ms. Calendar’s face that did it for Buffy. Not fear, not anger, not sadness – quietly, Ms. Calendar closed her eyes, an expression of tired resignation upon her face.

She’d given up. She thought that Buffy was going to _let her die._

Horrified, Buffy _ran_ forward, too disgusted with herself to come up with any other plan outside of _getting Ms. Calendar away from Angel._ Angel, who had clearly expected _something_ like this to happen, jerked Ms. Calendar away from Buffy with a sharp laugh, shoving the technopagan up against the window. Buffy heard the impact, saw the spiderweb-fractures spreading rapidly across the glass—

“I was gonna go for something a little simpler,” Angel sneered. “But this little bitch has been a thorn in my side for _much_ too long.” Violently, he _shoved_ Ms. Calendar again. The glass was just about to give way. How had it not given way? “Any last words, Jenny?”

Ms. Calendar’s eyes were squeezed tightly shut, tears trickling rapidly down her face. Blood from a cut on her forehead stained her cheek.

“Get away from her,” Buffy whispered.

“Aww, Buffy, you sure that’s what you want?” Winding his arms around Ms. Calendar’s stomach, Angel pulled her into his arms, her head falling back against his chest. “She’s a hell of a lot prettier than you, you know, and I _know_ you wish you were getting a little more attention from Giles.”

“Don’t—”

“I know you hate that she takes up so much of _your_ Watcher’s life,” Angel continued, trailing a bloodied hand up Jenny’s chest to roughly grip her face. “You always said you hated it, huh, lover? What was it you called it – a _double standard,_ right? That Giles got a girlfriend and dates and time off, and you had to pick up the slack every time him and his little _piece_ had a falling out?”

Slowly, Ms. Calendar opened her eyes. Angel, too busy leveling a taunting grin at Buffy, didn’t notice this; Buffy, however, did. A small spark of that quietly knowing look had returned to Ms. Calendar’s expression – that look Buffy had always fucking _hated._ Like Ms. Calendar _knew_ Buffy. Like she could tell what Buffy was thinking.

Somehow, it felt horribly different now.

“Consider this a favor,” said Angel, his hand tightening around Ms. Calendar’s throat. “I get rid of her, and _you_ get your Watcher back. He was more yours than hers anyway, huh, Buffy? Not like he came down on _her_ side when the chips were down—”

“You shut the fuck up about Rupert.”

Buffy and Angel both froze. Neither of them, it seemed, had expected Ms. Calendar to have any fight left in her. “Ms. Calendar,” Buffy began helplessly, desperate to refute something, _anything_ that Angel had said. Laid out like that, it sounded _horrible—_

“This isn’t about her, Angel,” said Ms. Calendar. “Get it over with.”

 _That_ wasn’t what Buffy had been expecting Ms. Calendar to say at _all._ “Ms. _Calendar?”_

“If you insist,” said Angel.

Buffy’s Slayer instincts took over. Without hesitation, she _charged_ at both of them, launching all three of them through the glass window. As a shocked Angel loosened his grip on his captive, Buffy grabbed Ms. Calendar’s wrist, pulling her teacher into _her_ arms and out of Angel’s. In less than a second, Buffy managed to angle herself so that it would be _her_ hitting the ground, and by some goddamn miracle, they landed – hard – on a patch of dewy, scratchy grass.

Pushed away by Buffy in her attempt to grab Ms. Calendar, Angel landed _hard_ on the concrete.

“Buffy? Buffy—” Ms. Calendar, who seemed to have landed mostly okay, pulled Buffy to her feet, dusting her off in a way that felt weirdly maternal. One of her hands landed to rest lightly on Buffy’s cheek, her thumb stroking a particularly painful spot that was probably either bruised or bleeding. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” said Buffy, her voice thick with tears.

Ms. Calendar drew her hand away as though she’d been burned. As she was opening her mouth to say something else, Angel’s raspy voice came from behind them: “You’re not gonna run, Slayer? Don’t think I won’t kill _her,_ even if I haven’t decided yet _exactly_ how I’m planning on killing you—”

“Oh, that’s _it,”_ said Ms. Calendar, and grabbed Buffy’s hand, yanking her roughly in the direction of the parking lot. “My car’s this way, hurry, we should—”

Buffy swayed on her feet.

“Okay, here we go,” Ms. Calendar whispered, wrapping a steadying arm around Buffy’s waist and continuing to tug her along. “He’s not coming all that fast. I’m pretty sure he broke a leg thanks to that stunt of yours.”

Resting her bloodied cheek against Ms. Calendar’s shoulder, Buffy drew in a stuttering breath. “I’m s-s—” she began, unsure of what she was apologizing for but feeling as though she probably _should._

“Shh, it’s fine.” Ms. Calendar squeezed Buffy a little closer. “Save your energy.”

“B-but—” Goddamn it, was Buffy _crying?_

“It’s okay. I’m gonna take you to Rupert, okay?”

“H-he’s—” Buffy sniffled again. “I-I think he’s at m-my house.”

They’d reached Ms. Calendar’s car. Careful not to let go of Buffy, Ms. Calendar unlocked the door, bundling her into the front seat before hurrying to the driver’s side herself. Glancing in the rearview mirror, Buffy saw that Ms. Calendar was right: an infuriated Angel was struggling to walk on his badly broken leg, and had barely covered half the ground they had in their effort to get to the car. “Your house?” said Ms. Calendar, starting up the Bug and _flooring_ the gas. “You’re gonna have to give me directions, sorry.”

Buffy stole another look at Ms. Calendar, who looked eerily blank. “A-are you okay?”

“Directions, Buffy?” said Ms. Calendar, in a voice that made it very clear she’d sooner kill Buffy herself than answer that question.

“Um, left turn at the next street and then just keep driving straight. But are you—”

“And you’re sure Rupert will be at your house? I have something I need to talk to him about.”

“You—” Buffy sniffled. It felt suddenly very wrong to be mad at Ms. Calendar about anything at all. “I-If you want to – be with him, again, you know I wouldn’t—”

Ms. Calendar’s jaw tightened. She made a hard left turn. “This is Revello Drive,” she said. “What number is your house?”

“1630,” said Buffy, her voice trembling.

They drove in relative silence for some time, Ms. Calendar clearly keeping track of the house numbers. When they finally reached Buffy’s block, Giles and Willow were having a conversation on the front porch of Buffy’s house, which made it pretty easy to tell that Buffy lived there.

“Um, there,” said Buffy, even though it felt a little redundant at that point. Ms. Calendar’s gaze landed on Giles, standing awkwardly on the front porch, and she made a small, broken noise in the back of her throat that she didn’t seem totally aware of. “Ms. Calendar—”

“Not now,” said Ms. Calendar, and stopped the car, getting out and hurrying to the other side before opening the door for Buffy.

As they walked up the driveway, it became clear that Giles was having a strained conversation with Willow regarding where the hell Buffy had run off to. “She dozed off on my shoulder,” Willow was saying tearfully, “and then she just _jerked_ awake and _ran_ out of the house in her _pajamas_ without saying anything to me! If I _knew_ where she was, I’d—” And then she caught sight of Buffy and Ms. Calendar and _screamed,_ which meant that they probably looked pretty bad.

Giles whirled. The blood drained from his face. He didn’t say Buffy’s name first, _or_ Ms. Calendar’s – he just kind of swayed a little and had to grab onto the porch railing for support.

“Willow, what—” Buffy’s mom poked her head out, then _gasped. “Buffy Summers!”_ she demanded, already on the defensive. “What on _earth_ happened to you? _Why_ aren’t you upstairs and in bed? I _told_ you that you’d be in trouble if—”

“Hey, everyone?” said Ms. Calendar in a flat, terrifying voice. “Please save all questions till the end of my explanation. Buffy’s ex attacked me at the school, Buffy’s _excellent_ intuition saved my life, and Mrs. Summers, your daughter _definitely_ needs to go to the hospital in the morning. Not now, though, because I don’t know if Buffy’s ex followed us here—”

“Jenny,” said Giles. He looked like he was about to pass out. “Are you saying—”

“Ms. Calendar, you really look like you could do with a hospital visit too!” said Willow in a high, shrill voice.

“All of you take care of yourself.” Ms. Calendar turned on her heel, striding purposefully towards the car – and halfway down the drive, she crumpled artlessly to the ground.

 _“Jenny!”_ gasped Giles, and _ran_ to her, falling to his knees on the gravel as he pulled her up and into his arms. Ms. Calendar, eyes open and glassy, stared blankly up at him as though they’d never met before.

“Buffy, _honey,”_ said Buffy’s mom in a shaking voice. “What _happened?”_

Buffy burst into tears.

* * *

Giles took Ms. Calendar home with him. He didn’t even bother to explain anything to Buffy or Willow – just bundled Ms. Calendar tenderly up in his overcoat and helped her into his car, setting off for his house at a frankly dangerous speed that was almost definitely illegal in suburban areas. A week ago, Buffy would probably have felt jealous and angry – Ms. Calendar wasn’t _that_ deserving of Giles’s time, after all – but now she just felt kind of nauseous and _definitely_ like she’d broken a whole bunch of bones in her two-story fall.

“Drink that, honey,” her mom whispered, pressing a mug of tea into Buffy’s hands.

Buffy sniffled. It was hard to get her crying under control, even now. “You’re not mad at me?”

Her mom was quiet for a few seconds. That was always scary. “I’m not _pleased,”_ she finally said, “but I don’t think me being mad at you is going to help a whole lot right now. I’m sure you loved him very much, and it must have been _terrifying_ for you to realize that he was planning on hurting someone, but Buffy, next time, you _call the police._ You do _not_ go charging in on your own if it’s a man who can cause a grown woman _that_ much damage, all right?”

“All right,” said Buffy, who was in the kind of hazy, exhausted mood that meant she’d agree to basically anything. “Can we go to the hospital?”

“Ms. Calendar made a good point,” said Willow uneasily. “I don’t know if going out is going to be safe at _all_ right now. Do you think you might _need_ the hospital?”

“Hhgh,” said Buffy. Everything felt fuzzy around the edges.

“I think I’ll take that as a _yes,”_ said her mom with exhausted wryness, brushing a feather-light kiss against Buffy’s temple. “Sweetie, how about you try and lie down? I’ll have to wake you up every two hours to be on the safe side, but sleep in general might help with at least _some_ of what you’re going through right now.”

“Yeah,” Buffy said, lying back against the pillows and closing her eyes. “Okay.”

“Is it okay if I stay too, Ms. Summers?” said Willow, her voice shaking. “I just – don’t want – to leave Buffy alone.”

The answer to Willow’s question wasn’t one Buffy got to hear. Her mom’s voice was beginning to fade away, exhaustion dragging Buffy down and under into much-needed sleep.

* * *

_“Does it ever get easy?” Buffy asked, staring down at Ford’s grave before looking slowly up to meet Giles’s eyes. Only it wasn’t Giles there, it was Ms. Calendar, her face tired and understanding._

_“You mean life?” said Ms. Calendar. “No. No, it doesn’t.”_

_“You know that’s not what you’re supposed to say, right?” said Buffy, a strange twinge in her chest. “You’re supposed to tell me—”_

_“Lies?” Ms. Calendar reached out, tucking a strand of Buffy’s hair behind her ear. “The kind of lies I tell aren’t the same as the kind of lies you want to hear.”_

_“So tell me a lie, then,” said Buffy. “Your lie.”_

_Ms. Calendar let her hand drop, tilting her head back. “You’ll die alone,” she said. “You’ll live as a Slayer for the rest of your life, and you’ll never have a life outside of being a Slayer. The path you walk is for you and you alone to tread, and no one else is ever going to understand the burden you bear, because only Vampire Slayers understand the pain of duty and magical destiny.”_

_A slow, burning rage was beginning in Buffy’s chest as she looked up at Ms. Calendar. “Those aren’t lies,” she said. “Those_ aren’t _lies. You’re never gonna get how hard this is for me, are you? You’re gonna keep laughing and jerking Giles around and acting like this is all some fun_ game _that you can opt out of at any time.”_

 _“Buffy, you_ can _opt out,” said Ms. Calendar, unfazed by the venom in Buffy’s tone. “You know that, right? You just keep on choosing not to.”_

 _“I don’t_ choose – _you were_ there! _Angel almost_ killed _you!”_

_“And you could’ve chosen to let me die.”_

_“That’s not a_ choice—”

_“But you still wanted to make it.”_

_“I—” Tears stung Buffy’s eyes. “Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you?”_

_“Oh, honey, that’s not the million-dollar question,” said Ms. Calendar softly. “This isn’t about me. It never has been. Why do_ you _spend so much time hating yourself?”_

* * *

The alarm woke up Buffy with a gasp, jostling Willow awake as well. “Buffy, Buffy, hey!” she whispered, stroking Buffy’s hair. “Hey, it’s okay! Sunrise is in a few hours, we can go to the hospital when—”

A broken sob ripped its way free from Buffy’s chest. All she could think about was Ms. Calendar’s gentle whisper: _You can opt out. You just keep on choosing not to._ But if she _could_ choose, she’d _never_ choose this – why would _anyone_ choose to be Buffy Summers if they were given the _choice?_ “I don’t _want_ to!” she wailed into Willow’s shoulder. “I _can’t!_ Why would she say that I can just _not_ be a Slayer, she _knows_ it’s not that simple—”

“—oh, it’s okay,” Willow murmured, her arms tightening around Buffy. “Nightmare, huh? Do you wanna go back to sleep for a little?”

“I-I—” This kind of ugly crying was basically _impossible_ to stop when it got started. Desperately, Buffy tried to steady her breathing, hiccupping a little in the process. “I wanna say _sorry,”_ she sobbed.

“Say sorry in the morning, okay?” Willow’s fingers tangled in Buffy’s hair. “You could _really_ do with some sleep.”

“I _can’t—”_

“Oh, _Buffy,”_ came her mom’s voice. “Willow, honey, scoot over. I think this one’s on me to handle.” And then the arms around her were familiar and warm, and Buffy turned her face into her mother’s shoulder, pretending – just for a moment – that she was nobody special at all.

* * *

_Buffy was sitting at a desk in Ms. Calendar’s classroom. “Buffy,” said Ms. Calendar, “pay attention. This is gonna be on the SATs. If you’re the love of Giles’s life, and I’m just cannon fodder in an endless war, then who’s driving the bus?”_

_“You’ve got it wrong,” said Buffy. “What textbook are you looking at?”_

_Ms. Calendar tapped the blackboard with the chalk she was holding, hard enough that it looked like it might snap in half. There was an exasperated tension to the way she held herself. “We’ve been at this for hours,” she said. “You need to know who you are before you go anywhere else. Answer me, Buffy – who are you?”_

_“I’m the Chosen One—”_

_“Think again. There’s more than that. Who are you?”_

_“I’m the Slayer—”_

_Ms. Calendar’s face was changing – cheeks softening, hair lightening, the determined sparkle in her eyes melting into a familiarly terrified look. “Who are you?” she said again, her voice Ms. Calendar’s, her face snatched straight from what Buffy saw in the mirror every morning._

_“DON’T YOU DARE TAKE ANY MORE FROM ME,” Buffy screamed—_

* * *

Buffy’s eyes flew open, her breathing coming out in ragged gasps. _That wasn’t a Slayer dream,_ she told herself firmly. _That was just weird trauma overflow. That didn’t mean anything. That didn’t mean anything._ And it _couldn’t_ mean anything, anyway, because Buffy didn’t have _anything_ in common with Ms. Calendar. Ms. Calendar was deceitful and terrible and living a double life and hurting everyone she _said_ she cared about, and Buffy was – Buffy was –

 _“Oh,_ my poor little baby.” Buffy’s mom pulled her gently up and out of the bed. “We’re going to the hospital, okay? Willow says she’s going to stay behind and call Mr. Giles so he can tell Ms. Calendar you’re okay.” She laughed softly. “I certainly didn’t expect to learn _that_ much about your teachers, but they do seem well suited for each other.”

“Mom,” said Buffy, feeling a little bit like she’d left some vital part of herself in that dream classroom, “what did you think of Ms. Calendar?”

“I didn’t exactly get to talk to her all that much, but I thought she seemed nice enough,” said her mom absently, in that placating way that meant that she was mostly just thinking about how best to get Buffy down the stairs and into the car. “She’s a little banged up from your – from Angel, but she seems to be doing better now, at least according to the call Willow got from Mr. Giles. You know it wasn’t your fault, don’t you, honey?”

“Mm,” said Buffy noncommittally, closing her eyes again.

* * *

_Disjointed images: a girl, ten or eleven, angrily chopping off haphazard fistfuls of her long, impossibly dark hair. Buffy herself, attaching little sparkly rainbow ribbons to the ends of her pigtail braids in preparation for her first day of seventh grade. The girl, older, sporting a messy black eye, knuckles bruised, shifting from foot to guilty foot as furious voices overlapped. Buffy, fifteen, squeezing her eyes tightly shut in the principal’s office as he yelled and her mom yelled and no one ever thought to ask her what had really happened. Buffy, the girl, Buffy, the girl, faster and faster in a roundabout until it was only the girl that Buffy was seeing,_ _tiny and sarcastic and impossibly brave even as death shoved her up against a window—_

* * *

Buffy’s eyes flew open, the vague, distorted Slayer dreams pressing in. “Hospital?” she said shakily, pressing her cheek into her mom’s shoulder.

“Oh, _definitely,”_ said her mom, brushing gentle fingers against the top of Buffy’s head. “I’ve been worried sick about you all night.”

* * *

Giles was at the hospital before they were. Buffy had expected a moment like this to feel _wonderful,_ but all she felt was that same curl of nervous horror she’d felt when he’d turned away from Ms. Calendar. He _shouldn’t_ take her anger at Ms. Calendar this seriously, she thought. She was just some dumb kid. _No_ one had _ever_ taken her anger this seriously, and the fact that Giles was shutting out his _serious girlfriend_ just because Buffy didn’t like her—

“Oh – Mr. Giles!” said Buffy’s mom, sounding appropriately disconcerted. “Is Ms. Calendar in the hospital too?”

A strange flash of guilt crossed Giles’s face. “She seemed to think that Buffy would need me more,” he said stiffly.

Buffy’s stomach dropped.

“Buffy, _do_ you need Mr. Giles here?” said Buffy’s mom, smiling with saccharine sweetness at Giles as though trying to gauge whether Buffy was dating _him_ too. Which, in Buffy’s opinion, was _categorically_ unfair, but now didn’t feel like the time to start another argument with her mom.

“I.” Buffy swallowed, her eyes wet. She kept on thinking about Ms. Calendar collapsing bonelessly to the concrete. Finally, she said, “Mom, can I – can I talk to Giles for a second? Uh, Mr. Giles,” she added belatedly.

“Of course you can,” said Buffy’s mom, and didn’t move.

 _“Alone,”_ said Buffy.

Buffy’s mom inhaled through her teeth. Turning to Buffy, she said in a low, sharp whisper, “Buffy, quite frankly, after the night we’ve had, I don’t really think I trust your judgment when it comes to—”

“It’s about Ms. Calendar,” said Buffy quietly. “I don’t think he’s gonna listen to anyone but me.”

“And _why_ wouldn’t he listen to anyone but you?”

It _hurt,_ Buffy thought. More than anything. Carrying a secret around for the sake of a whole bunch of people who said you were supposed to, no matter how much you wanted to tell the people you loved. Knowing that if the truth _did_ come out, your entire goddamn life would fall apart. Looking into the eyes of someone who said they were always in your corner, knowing that the reality of who you were would make them turn their backs.

She thought, inexplicably, of Ms. Calendar.

Unexpectedly, Giles cut in. “Buffy, if you’d like me to leave, I can leave,” he said, a strange mixture of resignation and hurt in his expression. “This really is going above and beyond in terms of teacher-student involvement, and I can understand why your mother might be concerned. Joyce – truly, the only reason I’m here is the fact that Jenny was _deeply_ concerned about Buffy, and wanted to make sure that someone more closely involved with the situation between Buffy and Angel was there to support her.”

Even _Xander_ could have told Giles that that was the wrong thing to say. “I’m sorry,” said her mom icily. “Are you insinuating that you’re more _closely involved_ with the situation between my daughter and her _abusive boyfriend?”_

“Mom—”

“No! If you _knew_ this was going on—”

“It wasn’t that simple,” said Giles thinly.

“Oh, I think it is,” said Buffy’s mom, who was _shaking_ with rage. “Buffy—”

“Mom, he _didn’t_ know!” Buffy burst out. “He thought Angel was a good guy! He just meant—”

“Buffy, _you_ shouldn’t have to be in the position of _defending_ your teacher!” snapped Buffy’s mom. “Mr. Giles—”

“Giles, just – just _go_ take care of Ms. Calendar, okay?” Buffy burst out, tears streaming down her face. “She’s all alone, and she doesn’t have _anybody_ who can take care of her like you do! Do you know how scared and sad she must be? She _sent you to go see me,_ and all she wants is for you to be with _her!”_

Giles froze. His eyes locked on Buffy’s, his lips trembling. In a very different tone of voice, he said, “Buffy, are you saying—”

“She _needs_ you,” Buffy sobbed. “She _needs_ you, and she doesn’t know how to _ask!”_

Uncertainly, Giles glanced towards Buffy’s mom, as if trying to gauge how freely he could speak. Finally, and very carefully, he said, “From what I understand, you and Ms. Calendar haven’t exactly been on the best of terms up until recently.”

“You’ve _what?”_ said Buffy’s mom. “Buffy, are you antagonizing _teachers?”_

“Please, Joyce, don’t misinterpret this,” said Giles quietly. “Jenny’s actions recently have been unwarranted and unprofessional. In many ways, the situation with Angel was—”

“It wasn’t her fault,” said Buffy.

Both adults turned to look at her. Buffy’s mom mostly just looked like she was about to spontaneously combust, but Giles—

“It wasn’t,” said Buffy. She was still crying, kind of, but somehow her voice was managing to remain steady. “She – she didn’t know it would happen. She never would have done it if she _did_ know, a-and there’s no point in hating her forever over something she didn’t even really _mean_ to do, right?”

“Buffy,” said Giles softly.

“Buffy, we are _going inside,”_ said her mom through gritted teeth. _“Mr._ Giles, as _much_ as I appreciate your involvement in my daughter’s life, I think she is _entirely_ right that it’s your _girlfriend_ you should be worried about right now, _not_ her. Buffy has a _mother_ to take care of her, and I find it _highly_ disturbing that—”

Cold fury roared to life. “Oh, like _you’ve_ been here for me when I needed it?” Buffy demanded. “Like you haven’t just jumped to conclusions? Mom, I didn’t _tell_ you about all this because I _knew_ you’d blame me for it somehow, and I told Giles because he _didn’t_ just tell me I’m a vapid slut who shouldn’t have been hanging around older boys anyway!”

Both Giles and Buffy’s mom went very still. Giles was looking at Buffy’s mom in an extremely different way. “Buffy,” said her mom, sounding _viscerally_ horrified. “Did you really think—”

And all of a sudden, Buffy had absolutely _had_ it with both of them. Jerking her arm free of her mom’s grasp, she took a few unsteady steps away from the hospital before falling into a _much_ steadier run. Her Slayer healing was finally beginning to kick in, and even injured, she could _easily_ outpace Giles and her mom alike. Good thing neither of them were ever going to be able to guess where she was headed.

* * *

Ms. Calendar opened the door. She didn’t look totally surprised to see Buffy there. “Did Rupert say something asinine?” she said, conversational and light, like Buffy _hadn’t_ slammed her up against a desk a month ago and left a ring of finger-shaped bruises around her neck. “He’s kinda good at doing that.”

“No, this one’s on you,” said Buffy, shutting the door. “Did you seriously send Giles to see me? _You’re_ the one who almost died last night—”

“We both almost died,” Ms. Calendar corrected her. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Should _you_ be drinking coffee?”

“Rupert’s out of the house. No one’s here to stop me.”

 _“I’m_ here to stop you,” said Buffy, glaring at Ms. Calendar.

“Oo-kay,” said Ms. Calendar, her mouth twitching. “You might wanna sit down for a second, though. You look like you’re about to keel over.”

“How did you know I was gonna be here?” said Buffy, reluctantly letting Ms. Calendar lead her over to the sofa.

Ms. Calendar didn’t say anything for a little while. Then, sitting down in Giles’s easy chair, she said, “I don’t think I know you well enough to be surprised by the things that you do, Buffy.”

There was something of an edge to that statement. Abashed for reasons she couldn’t entirely understand, Buffy directed her eyes at her hands, lacing her fingers together. A little resentfully, she pointed out, “It’s not like you were making a huge effort to get to know me—”

“Why would I?”

 _That_ got Buffy to look up. “Because you’re my _Watcher’s girlfriend,”_ she said indignantly. “Shouldn’t you – don’t you know –” It was suddenly hard for her to continue.

“Don’t I know how important you are to Rupert?” said Ms. Calendar. “I do. _He_ doesn’t. Honestly, I’m pretty sure you don’t either.”

A strange curl of warmth opened up in Buffy’s chest. Uncertainly, she looked up. “What do you mean?”

Ms. Calendar was looking at Buffy in that unusual way again – that kind of _knowing_ way that made Buffy want to hide under a rock. A small, sad smile flickered across her face. “Buffy, you _know_ what I mean,” she said. “You don’t have to try and push me into saying it.”

“So say it,” said Buffy, her voice shaking.

Ms. Calendar shook her head. “You don’t want to hear it from me.”

“I want to hear it from _someone,”_ Buffy sobbed out, “because otherwise none of this makes _sense!_ He _threw you over_ just because I _asked_ and he’d probably have let you _die_ if I wanted it and Angelus said _I_ wanted you dead but I _didn’t_ but I _did_ and I’m _sorry—”_

“Oh, I am _not_ paid enough for this,” said Ms. Calendar to herself, and got up out of the easy chair to sit down next to Buffy. Awkwardly, she placed a hand on Buffy’s shoulder. “Look, do you want me to call Rupert? Or your mom? I can—”

“I won’t talk to them!”

Ms. Calendar let out a small, laughing breath. “Seriously?”

This was not the response Buffy had been anticipating. Infuriated, she looked up into Ms. Calendar’s eyes. “Don’t _laugh_ at me!” she snapped.

“Buffy, you’ve stonewalled me for a _month_ and now I’m the _only_ person you want to talk to?” Now that Buffy was looking closer, the sparkle of amusement in Ms. Calendar’s smile didn’t quite match the hard anger in her eyes. “It’s a little hard to believe, that’s all.”

 _“Why_ are all of you acting like – Ms. Calendar, you _get_ it and they _don’t_ and I don’t know how to _talk_ to them about this!” Buffy burst out. “It’s not like _they_ messed everything up and ruined the only good thing they had going for them, or _they’re_ a total monopoly on Giles’s time who never deserved someone like him anyway, or _they’re_ totally bad at being there for other people or even connecting with other people at _all_ unless it’s in a stupid apocalypse setting!”

“…ah,” said Ms. Calendar. The anger had given way to an extremely uncomfortable expression. “Wow. You know, I almost liked it better when you were just really, really mad at me.”

“I _am_ really, really mad at you!” said Buffy, and fell forward into Ms. Calendar’s side.

Ms. Calendar didn’t make any move to tug her closer, which for some reason made Buffy feel weirdly better about the whole situation. Looking up at the ceiling, she said, “Yeah, I … really don’t know how to help you here, Buffy. As a total monopoly on Giles’s time—”

“…you know I wasn’t _just_ talking about you, right?” said Buffy very quietly.

Ms. Calendar went very still. “Buffy, you don’t _really_ think—”

“This is all my fault,” said Buffy. Her voice broke. “This is all my fault. I _blamed_ it on you so that I wouldn’t have to really think about what I did, but it was _all my fault.”_

The room was very quiet for a very long time. Ms. Calendar shifted position, gingerly placing an arm around Buffy’s shoulder.

“I don’t wanna be the one girl in all the world,” Buffy whispered. “I’m so _tired._ And everyone keeps acting like I’m supposed to know what I’m doing, but I _don’t.”_

“I know,” said Ms. Calendar.

“And no one even _thinks_ about how hard this must be for me, unless it’s to treat me like a _baby,_ and I’m _not_ a baby!”

“I know,” said Ms. Calendar.

“I _know_ you know! Why are you the only one who _gets_ it?” Buffy sniffled, turning her head to rest her cheek against Ms. Calendar’s upper arm. “Giles keeps on saying how it’s not my fault and I shouldn’t blame myself, and my mom _would_ have blamed me if she’d known the whole story before Angel went bad, a-and – and why don’t _you_ blame me either?”

Ms. Calendar didn’t answer for a little while. Then she said, “When I was fifteen, my uncle told me that I was going to spend my entire life watching Angel. I had been a rebellious little kid, and they thought giving me a mission like this would either straighten me out or kill me.”

Buffy looked up at Ms. Calendar – at that blank, impassive mask of a face that she still didn’t entirely understand. She was starting to think that maybe that was what Ms. Calendar had always wanted. “Your entire life?” she said quietly. “When you were fifteen?”

“I think I’d been acting up,” said Ms. Calendar, “because they’d meant to tell me when I turned eighteen. But I did something stupid – I don’t even remember _what,_ now, it was so long ago – and my uncle snapped. Told me that I was nothing but a weapon to be used against the monster who had hurt my family the most.” She tilted her head back again, eyes on the ceiling and very purposefully _not_ on Buffy. “And when you’re fifteen and your entire life’s been taken away from you, it’s…”

“Giles _doesn’t_ get it,” said Buffy suddenly. “He got shoved into it, sure, but it’s not – it’s not like you’ve got all these old guys telling you that you don’t even get to be a _person_ anymore, you know? It’s not like anyone’s actually gonna _listen_ to what a vampire-killing machine is supposed to say, especially if she’s pretty.”

“Yeah,” said Ms. Calendar quietly.

Buffy suddenly felt acutely aware of Ms. Calendar’s arm around her shoulder. She pulled back a little too quickly, ignoring the twinge of pain. “Look, I should…” She trailed off, eyes darting towards the door.

Ms. Calendar got the message. “Do you want me to tell Rupert you were here?”

Buffy swallowed. “I told him I thought _he_ should be here,” she said. “So.”

“…oh,” said Ms. Calendar. A kind of half-shattered softness crept into her expression – exactly identical to Giles’s face outside the hospital. “So—”

“I _know_ you two miss each other,” said Buffy. “And I don’t – I don’t want to be friends with you or anything, but what I said stands, okay? I don’t want you to be lonely, either.” She sniffled. “I know what that’s like.”

Ms. Calendar almost smiled. “Hey, Buffy,” she said. “Let me know if you _do_ want to be friends, okay? You’re an incredible girl.”

Buffy tried her best not to look away. She felt like this moment was probably important, or maybe it would be later. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” said Ms. Calendar. “Rupert’s a lucky guy to have a daughter like you.”

* * *

As it happened, Ms. Calendar had very subtly locked the apartment door when Buffy came in, and Giles had apparently left his keys inside – so when Buffy opened the door, he tumbled through. _“Buffy,”_ he said with great relief, and then caught Ms. Calendar’s eyes over Buffy’s shoulder. He didn’t seem entirely able to look away.

Something about that cut Buffy to the bone: jealousy and longing and a deep, pervasive _sadness._ Her person was gone, after all, and she’d never get to see him again—

 _“Oh!”_ said Ms. Calendar very loudly, pushing past Giles to grab Buffy’s arm. “Oh, god, I _knew_ I forgot something! Rupert, Buffy, I am _so_ sorry—”

“Yes, you said that,” said Giles. He still hadn’t looked away from Ms. Calendar.

“Not for _that,”_ said Ms. Calendar impatiently. “Listen—”

 _“Buffy!”_ In a rush of floral print, Buffy’s mom pushed past Giles and Ms. Calendar, scooping her into a frantic hug. “I was _so_ worried – and you with a _concussion –”_

“Joyce, can you give us a minute?” said Ms. Calendar suddenly. “There’s one last thing that I need to talk about with Rupert and Buffy.”

Whatever Giles and her mom had talked about on the drive to his place seemed to have left an impression, because Buffy’s mom backed off without complaint. “I’ll be outside, sweetie,” she whispered, shutting the door behind her.

Ms. Calendar fell back against the door, looking a little wiped. “Jenny,” said Giles with worry, but she held up a hand.

“Ms. Calendar,” said Buffy, who really just wanted to leave, _“what—”_

Ms. Calendar opened her mouth – and burst into tears.

“Oh – _goodness,”_ said Giles, and moved quickly forward to pull Ms. Calendar into his arms. She tried to jerk away at first, but he held fast, rubbing comforting circles on her back as she sobbed into his shoulder. “Oh, Jenny, it’s all right—”

The moment felt intensely personal. “Maybe I should leave?” said Buffy, hoping that no one would hear her.

Without removing her face from Giles’s shoulder, Ms. Calendar made a few complex and insistent hand gestures.

“I, um.” Giles had transitioned to stroking Ms. Calendar’s hair. “Think she would like you to stay.”

“Yeah, well, _I_ don’t know if—”

Still shaking a little, Ms. Calendar raised her head again. Though her face was streaked with tears, the determined sparkle in her eyes hadn’t faltered – and a small smile was beginning to dance across her face. “Okay,” she said. “Okay. Rupert, Buffy, I – I have something pretty great to tell you.”


End file.
